I am not bound to please thee with my answer.

She moves me not, or not removes at least affection's edge in me.

He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion.

I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger I recover them.

Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me And tune his merry note, Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

And send him many years of sunshine days!

a young woman in love always looks like patience on a monument smiling at grief